


Even When I Lose I'm Winning

by scatterthestars



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatterthestars/pseuds/scatterthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes losing for Mickey to realize he's doing the right thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even When I Lose I'm Winning

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I had to get out. I hope it's okay.
> 
> Title from All Of Me by John Legend

It's a month after he is told that Ian is bipolar that Mickey knows he can't do this.  That he isn't strong enough to care for the most important person in his life.  One month.  Thirty days.  It's on that thirtieth day that it hits him hard that this is something beyond his control.

Mickey hates giving up. Hates losing.  Hates being defeated in any way.  Doesn't like being the broken boy on the floor after being overpowered, and losing a fight.  Doesn't like to walk into a room and get those stares filled _"You fucking idiot!  You can't even do that!"_   That's why he was adamant to see this through.  He wasn't going to be the person to give up on Ian.  He wasn't going to be that broken boy on the floor with Ian.  He had to be the one to lift him up and nurse him back to health.

He didn't want Ian looking at him and thinking he gave up on him.  The option of giving up on Ian was never one; it was never a card on the table.  He was going to do his best with the hand he was dealt.  Try to win.  Beat this the way he knew how.  It never registered in Mickey's mind to bow out.  He was going to see this through; be there holding Ian's hand as he made progress.

But it was four weeks after turning away Fiona that he realized this is bigger than just simply nursing a sad boy back from unhappiness.  From making jokes and trying to brighten Ian's day by simply holding him close.  When he lets him.  When he didn't cringe at the mere touch of him.  This was dealing with the kind of mood swings he'd never seen.

Growing up where and how he did, Mickey thought he could handle anything.  Put some sort of weapon in his hand and send him out into the big, bad world and he would come back victorious.  But this is totally different.

This is dealing with something he can't frighten away with a few punches of his fist.  With threatening words as he holds a loaded gun.  This is something far beyond him.  Far beyond his control of beating.

In the kitchen, the world gray outside, sun barely poking out from thick clouds.  The smell of fresh brewed coffee in the air.  Mickey fidgets with the corner of the table where the plastic is starting to tear away, knee rapidly bouncing, cigarette forgotten on the plate in front of him, his mind is on the boy still in his bed.  The boy who yelled at him, again, to leave him alone.  Who burrowed further under blankets and pillows and blocked out him and the world; hid from everything like before.

Mickey's mind runs rampant with thoughts of how to fix this.  The right things to do.  The right things to say. But he thinks of how he's already tried that.  How he said and did the right things and nothing came of fruition because of it.  He comes up empty of what right thing to do.  Isn't sure there _is_ a right thing he can do on his own.

"Orange Boy still sad?"  Svetlana asks the moment she walks into the kitchen.  A lit cigarette is held between her two fingers as she pours a cup of coffee.  Her hair is a tussled mess, one of the few clues to what she did the night before.

Mickey nods his head.  Voice barely coming out above a whisper when he talks.  "Yeah."

"You make him happy again?" she asks as she sits down at the table across from him.

"I don't know," Mickey replies, sounding defeated.  "I'm not sure I can do this.  It's too hard."

Svetlana lifts her cup and blows on the coffee before taking a sip.  "No one said you had to do it."

"I know.  But..." Mickey trails off.

"But, what?"

"But it's Ian," Mickey says in a low voice.  "I have to be there.  Show him how much I care."

"You can do same by giving him help he needs," Svetlana says.  "Don't take all pressure on yourself to make him better.  You can lose, Mickey."

It's those three words.  Those three words spoken to him that breaks Mickey.  _'You can lose.'_   It hits him hard.  Hard like a bullet in his chest.  He knows Svetlana said that because she knows how much he hates losing; hates being defeated.

It's hearing those three words out loud that he knows there is a right thing he can do.  That there's that option that's been in the back of his mind but he never acknowledged.  Couldn't acknowledge.  Acknowledging it would mean losing.  And he couldn't lose.

_'You can lose.'_   Maybe Svetlana is right.  Maybe this one time losing would be the right thing.

"Yeah."  Mickey nods his head as he chews his lower lip.  "Yeah," he repeats as he thinks about Ian in his bed who doesn’t want to do anything.

In front of Fiona a day later, he feels like a recovering alcoholic taking that first drink off the wagon.  This is him admitting defeat.  This is him saying it's too hard, and he can't do it.  He's folding his cards, and losing.

He wishes with all the love he has for Ian that he could be that superhero he's seen in movies who saves the day.  Wishes he could be strong enough for the both of them.  But he's not a superhero.  He's not strong enough.  He is just an ordinary boy who is realizing the world is harsher than he is able to handle sometimes.

"Thanks, Mickey," Fiona tells him with relief and hope and sadness mixing in her already worried filled eyes.

Mickey tenses some as she hugs him.  Brings his arms up and awkwardly pats her back.  He’s only used to Ian’s strong, warm hugs.  Not Fiona’s loving embrace that makes him feel safe.  This is the right thing.  This is what he has to do.  And when Fiona pulls back and looks at him, he's relieved he doesn't see disgust in her eyes.  Doesn't see _"You only managed thirty days?  I dealt with this for years.  And you could only go thirty days!"_   Mickey is glad he's not a number to her.  Not a loser who couldn't deal with what she dealt with.

She looks at him and sees support.  Sees the boy willing to give up the control he doesn't want to let go, but has to.  She sees the boy doing the right thing.

"I'm sorry, Ian," Mickey sadly says as he holds Ian's hands in the doctor's office waiting to be called a couple days later.

"Why?"  Ian asks, giving him a confused look.

"For not being able to be the one to make you better," Mickey tells him as he looks down at their intertwined fingers.

"You are, Mick," Ian whispers into his ear.  "You brought me here.  You're making me better."

"You don't hate me for giving up?"  Mickey chances a look up at Ian's eyes, and instead of finding anger there, he finds love.

"No, I don't hate you."  Ian tells him.  "I love you for doing this for me.  You're helping me.  That’s not giving up.  That’s doing the right thing."

The corner of Mickey's mouth curls up into a small smile as he stares into eyes he'll never get over.  Eyes he loves getting lost in.  Leaning over and brushing his lips over Ian's, he breathes a sigh of relief for the first time in days.  This is right, he tells himself.  He can do this.

"Ian Gallagher?" a nurse calls out.

Mickey hates losing.  But watching Ian walk away with the nurse to be seen, it's then that he knows sometimes losing is the best thing he can do.


End file.
